We’re told that a recession is coming. Apparently, it’s got something to do with the Chinese, who have, in a complex way, affected America’s sub-prime. Inflation here will spiral out of control, millions will find themselves on the dole and thousands of immigrants will be eaten by rats.

Good. Because this will give the government something to do. And maybe it will then stop sitting around all day finding new ways to boss us around.

Already, in the period of Great Boredom, they’ve stopped us smoking, killing foxes, reversing without a banksman, playing conkers, enjoying bonfire night, and taking toothpaste on an aeroplane.

And now they are thinking of banning patio heaters, doing 30, and wearing hooded tops. Soon, it will be illegal to not be George Monbiot.

The latest wheeze comes from the Highways Agency, which is “concerned” that over half of those interviewed in a recent survey would carry on with a journey, regardless of a severe weather warning.

Well, of course we would, you non-conker-playing, health-and-safety obsessed, hard-hatted, high-visibility clowns. Because, and I want to make this absolutely clear, your idea of severe weather is very far removed from anyone who’s got an IQ in double figures.

You may have noticed these days that every single weather forecast tells us the Met Office has issued a severe weather warning.

Two weeks ago they said the whole of East Anglia was to be engulfed by a flood so massive and so destructive that billions would die in screaming agony. Last week they were banging on about fog so dense and impenetrable that we’d all be eaten by werewolves we never saw coming.

I see what’s going on here. The weather people are cross because they have to follow the news, which is full of interesting stuff like murder and war, and all they’ve got to talk about is drizzle and clouds in the west by mid-morning. So they try to spice things up a bit, to make their job look a bit more interesting.

We can all see it’s a sham. British severe weather is like British severe poverty, a fairly limp-wristed affair when placed in a global context. Northern Norway has severe weather. Oklahoma, in the tornado season, has severe weather. And a Cuban has every right to say “Wow, that was severe” after a category five hurricane has just blown his house into the middle of Houston. But in Barnsley? No.

When you’ve seen the flooding in Bangladesh during the monsoon, you’ll realise how idiotic Gordon Brown looked in Tewkesbury earlier this year, comforting those whose DFS sofas had been ruined. And when you’ve experienced an Icelandic whiteout, you will cry with laughter when some hapless reporter in wellies comes on the rolling news channel to say Britain is locked in ice chaos. It’s all complete claptrap.

I am 47 years old and I do not ever remember weather so severe that I could not go out. The so-called hurricane of 1987 was so pathetic it passed right over my house and I never even woke up. And the snowstorms of my youth were never so bad that we couldn’t drive 20 miles to find a tobogganing hill.

Undeterred by the bothersome notion of facts, however, the Highways Agency has enlisted the help of the Met Office which, spurred on by the chance for a bit of bossiness, agrees that we should stay at home whenever it’s windy, and possibly move to the cellar with some soup until the all-clear is sounded.

Only then they get themselves in a bit of a pickle because arguing that we’re in for a cold winter doesn’t sit well with their directive to big up climate change. So they say we mustn’t be lulled into a false sense of security by global warming because cold snaps are still possible.

How cold exactly? Minus 4? Minus 8? The coldest temperature ever recorded in Britain was -27.2C and I’ll admit this is far too nippy for, say, swimming. But when I went to the North Pole earlier this year, it went to -58C, and even though I was in a tent, I didn’t even slightly die.

As humans we can cope. We have central heating, and patio heaters that will keep us warm when we go outside for a cigarette. And at the other end of the scale, last year I worked in Death Valley for 10 days where it rarely dropped below 110F (43C). And that was fine too. I even got a suntan, which, amazingly, failed to give me cancer.

The trouble is, of course, that the Highways Agency nitwits don’t really care about reality. What they care about is that motorists are ignoring weather warnings from the Met Office. And that, in bossy Britain, won’t do.

So they’ve come up with a new system of red and amber alerts that will be broadcast over the radio and flashed up on motorway gantries warning drivers of severe weather ahead.

And, of course, we will ignore these too because we know that unless we’ve accidentally driven to Archangel the severe weather in question will be as frightening as an ageing labrador. Which means a law will be necessary that forces us to stay at home when the Met Office has decided it will be windy.

I promise you this. It is a cast-iron guarantee. Unless we get a recession to occupy the minds of those in charge, they will impose legislation. And when they do, the profitability of your business, the wealth of the nation and the education of your children will depend entirely on the whim of Michael Fish.

Times Recommends

• Bank charges hit us for being human
• Sorry, Father, thou still shalt not steal
• The shed where Santa’s failures go to die